Spirit Holder
by Mrs. Elena Gilbert-Salvatore
Summary: This is my REWRITE of my previous story In Love With a Demon. Hopefully this one is better than the first. Please give it a chance. I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING!


I stood in Cordelia's apartment in front of the white board with Angel, Cordelia and Wesley flanking me as we examined the board. The three of them just killed yet another demon here in L.A. and we've been categorizing them trying to find a pattern or at least figure out what we're dealing with.

"I'm beginning to think it was the Sloth Demon." Wesley blurted out.

"Sloth Demons don't sacrifice adolescents, Wesley." Cordelia reminded him. "It was a Carnyss. You I.D.'d it."

"No, I don't mean the demon we killed last night. I mean the one we—"

"The was a nice gym." Angel said randomly, playing with one of Cordelia's glass figurines, absent mindly.

"Incinerated a month ago." Wesley continued as if Angel didn't say anything. "I think that's what Wolfram and Hart raised in that box when Angel was fighting Vocah."

"The thing about a gym is that you're not alone. You got people around it encourages you to work out."

"You don't have to work out." I said, leaning against the dining room table and crossing my arms over my chest. My left gold eye and my right silver eye scanned the vampire in front of me. He was about six foot two with dark black hair that was spike up in the front and deep brown eyes. He had a rectangular face and a straight nose. "You're eternal."

"I may not always be." We all looked at him questioningly before Cordelia and Wesley turned back to the matter at hand.

"It was the Vartite monster." Cordelia insisted. "It took two days to kill that thing. It's got Wolfram and Hart written all over it."

"You got your steam." Angel continued quietly. "You got your sauna. Your fresh towels. I mean, how bad could it be?"

"You shower with a lot of men." I reminded him.

"I'll always be a loner." Angel sighed in defeat and leaned against a pillar, twirling the figurine in his hand. Cordelia's face scrunched up and started hyperventilating.

"Vision!" Angel and Wesley exclaimed, glass shattering as Angel dropped the figurine and they both rushed towards her to support her before the vision took over her body, but nothing came except for a small sneeze.

"Just a sneeze." Cordelia assured them.

"Oh." Angel and Wesley both muttered, disappointed.

"Oh?!"

"I mean, bless you. . ." Angel corrected himself before turning to the broken glass on the floor. "And sorry about this." Cordelia's face and eyes filled with hurt at the sight and Angel bent down to pick up the pieces. Cordelia was psychic. She received visions about demons and potential dangers from the Higher Powers and leads us to track down the demon and kill it before it can do any harm.

"Why can't we work out of Wes's? Or Rosabella's?"

"Because my place consists of sleeping under the nearest bush I can find." I snapped.

"We're getting a new office." Angel said. "I just haven't had the—" He was cut off as Cordelia's face scrunched up again and the men both tensed up.

"Sneeze. . ." Cordelia managed to say before it happened. "Followed by vision." Cordelia's eyes tightened and her body convulsed but Angel and Wesley gently grabbed her and lead her over to the couch to sit. Her vision was fast, and her body soon began to relax as she blinked her eyes open.

"Are you all right?" Angel inquired. Cordelia gasped for breath as if the vision sucked every bit of air out of her lungs.

"I'll survive."

"What have we got?" Wesley questioned her, moving over to the white board to begin writing down the details of the demon Cordelia saw.

"A nasty-looking demon. Didn't recognize it.

"Nasty demon. Unknown origin."

"Awful lot of that in this town." I muttered. "I'm sure he'll feel right at home here."

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

"The eyes are a little farther apart." Cordelia criticized Angel's drawing of the demon from her vision. I peered over his left shoulder at his artwork. He was very good. Must have developed the talent over the centuries. He erased part of the left eye on the demon to move it over. "They look right through you. I don't think this guy's afraid of much." Angel dropped his erased and inspected his work.

"Wes, I'm thinking Northern Pakistan, Hindu Kush—" Angel tried suggesting the potential origins for the demon.

"Right, or maybe the Tien Shenin in Kazahstan, which means I need _Suleman's Compendium." _As Wesley finished his sentence, a book from the stack on the counter flung itself at Wesley causing him to cry out in surprise. "Aah!" Angel buried his head in his hands in exasperation.

"Don't yell like that." Cordelia scolded Wesley. "You will scare him."

"Scare him?" Wesley bent down to retrieve the book from the ground by his feet.

"Dennis is very sensitive. He's just trying to help. He's more a person than a G-H-O-S-T."

"Maybe you should find someway to get rid of him." Cordelia turned to look at me.

"I tried to get a certain Spirit Holder to help with that." I placed my palms flat on the table and leaned forward on them.

"I tried to tell you he doesn't want to go." I retorted. "He likes it here. He enjoys your company, Cordelia. I'm not going to make a happy spirit move on. When he starts becoming aggressive, then let me know and I'll do something about it."

"We need to get an office." Wesley told Angel. Wesley quickly flipped through the pages of the book and Cordelia yelped which caused Wesley to cry out once more and Angel pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh!"

"There! There!" Cordelia exclaimed pointing to a page in the book in Wesley's hands. Wesley skimmed the passage on the page.

"Prio Motu demon. It's a killer." He handed the book to Angel to show him the illustration of the demon in the book. It was very similar to the one Angel had drawn except the one in the book looked a lot scarier.

"Ancient Ofga-Beast." Angel read. "Bred to maim and massacre."

"Oh, goody. A pit bull." Cordelia said sarcastically as Angel stood up from the table and walked over to the white board to write the name of the beast on it.

"Ok. Now we know what we're dealing with. A Prio Motu. Now we need to find it. Right now, we got it narrowed down to somewhere."

"Yes, because that's a very helpful location here in LA." I retorted.

"I may be able to help us with that." Wesley offered with a smug and cocky grin. "I've been broadening our contact base. Reaching out to the under life. I may have someone who can help."

"Who?" Angel asked.

"A parasite demon named Merle."

"Maybe it's time to pay your stoolie a little visit." Cordelia said in a firm tone. "Make with the chin music until he canaries." We all looked at her with concern. Chin music? Canaries? "I've been watching a little Noir Festival on Bravo."

"There's a place he hangs out. A safe haven for demons. I've been meaning to take you there. I think it may be of use to us. But. . ." His voice trailed off as he shifted his weight nervously from foot to foot.

"But what?" Angel demanded.

"It's a little outside the box."

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Wesley lead us down some steps to an underground club. After going through the metal detector, the first thing I saw was a sign to the right saying _No Violence or Weapons Allowed. _Well, that sucks the fun right out of everything. What's a bar without a few good bars fights occasionally? The club had low lighting, but the red coloring of the place made it feel warm welcoming. Upon entering the rest of the club there was a stage to the left and upon that stage now was a scaly green demon singing karaoke. He had a decent voice if I do say so myself. I lagged the group so I could examine the rest of the layout of the club while we made our way to the bar. The club was full, most of the tables on the floor were filled. There were a wide variety of demons as well as a few normal humans.

I resisted the urge to allow my body to move with the beat of the music. My tribe were very musical. It was how we got in touch with our inner spirit. We believed music and sing and beat and rhythm brought us strength and power, but above all, the Spirit Holder of the tribe was supposed to be the most musical. Allowing herself to be open to the spirit world and forming music to soothe and communicate with spirits.

"Your stool pigeon feels safe in a karaoke bar?" Cordelia asked Wesley.

"In this one he does." He answered. "It's a sanctuary." I turned my back to the stage and leaned up against the bar, surveying the bright lights that lit up the alcohol selection. A serene sound filled my ears causing my body to stiffen and my blood to run thick in my veins. My breath hitched in my throat and my heart skipped several beats before kicking into overdrive. The sound touched every cell in my body, and I had to close my eyes to stop myself from swaying. In that instance, I felt like all I needed to live was just that voice. My chest still heaving for breath, I managed to turn myself around to locate the source of the sound. On the stage with the short, scaly demon was another demon, but this one was different. He had green skin with bright red eyes and full crimson lips.

Two small red horns protruded from his forehead that lead to short spiked hair, a bit honey colored, and I couldn't help but think about running my fingers through it. He wore a purple button-down shirt with the top two buttons undone and a white overcoat with a purple handkerchief in the pocket. My eyes drifted toward his big hands, imagining they were all over me. In his hand was a drink. He was leaning over the shorter demon's shoulder singing into the microphone along with demon. My heart dropped and floated at the same time. It dropped because I realized what was happening and it floated because, I mean, whose heart wouldn't float at the sound of that voice? Spiritaes found their lifelong mates through songs. They know they've found their mate when their voices match perfectly in harmony and their voice is the only keeping you grounded. The crowd cheered and applauded as the two finished the song.

"Well, move over, pointer sisters." The tall green demon breathed into the microphone. "That was cookin'!" This demon had charisma. Energy. Joy and devotion. You could tell all that just from his tone. "I'm about to lose control and I think I like it. Well, I'm gonna have a word with Liz here." Liz?!

That thing was a she?! "Don't go anywhere! Coming right up, Mordar the Bentback will be callin' the tune with a personal favorite of mine. Make him feel welcome!" The crowd applauded as a hairy hunchback brown beast climbed up onto stage and took the microphone from the demon. The two demons walked off stage and disappeared as another song began to play and the beast began to sing, but I wasn't paying attention to the horrid voice now singing. That certain voice was now branded in my ears.

"Oh, God." I gasped, turning quickly back around to grip the bar to keep myself steady. A song started bubbling inside my chest and I just wanted to open my mouth and belt everything out, but I gritted my teeth and kept it buried.

"What's wrong?" Angel asked, looking around frantically as if there was danger.

"Nothing." I peered past Angel to look at Wesley. "Could we, like, move this along so we can get out of here?" Wesley moved down the bar to a demon with dark olive-green skin and a round head that pointed out to a cone shape on the top with tiny raised spikes. His beady, milky red eyes looked up at Weasley as he sat down next to him.

"Hello, Merle." Wesley greeted him.

"Cat got your tongue, Merl?" Cordelia taunted the demon.

"I don't have a tongue." Merl shot back, showing his slightly blue tinted pointed teeth.

"Oh." Angel walked around the back of the demon to lean against the bar on the other of Merl.

"And, uh, keep the bloodsucker away from me."

"He can't hurt you in here." I assured him.

"I know his rep, ok? Hates his own kind, beatin' on demons wherever he finds 'em."

"Especially when they waste my time." Angel said, quiet thunder lacing his voice. Wesley slid an envelope over to Merl who picked it up to see it filled with twenty-dollar bills.

"We're looking for the Prio Motu." Wesley informed him.

"Whoa!" Merl gasped. "You've obviously never seen one up close. I mean Prios are stone-cold killers. They got these teeth that'll—hmm—you gotta sweeten this a whole lot and keep my name out of it." Wesley reached into his back pocket to pull out another wad of twenties and handed it to Merl who graciously took it. "This Prio you're looking for—he don't like it above ground. So, he'll be travelin' in one of those sub tunnels off the Redondo line." Angel abruptly stood and turned to leave but Merl called him back. "Prios are nasty. Not some big mosquito like you who turns to dust whenever you stake it. Best of luck though." Angel turned once again only to bump into the green demon that was singing just moments ago. The Host of the show.

"Love the coat!" He exclaimed, looking at Angel from head to toe. But the way he was looking, I knew he wasn't just looking at Angel's attire. It was if he was looking around him as well. Then, it clicked. "It's all about the coat." I'd say. The white coat on him was fitting him nicely. His scent and allure pulled me in like a bee to a flower's honey. "Welcome to Caritas. You know what that means?"

"It's Latin for mercy." Angel answered plainly.

"Smart and cute. How about gracing us with a number?"

"I don't sing."

"Neither does Mordar the Bentback. That cat's a foghorn on two legs."

"Who is this guy?" Cordelia whispered to Wesley.

"He's, uh, anagogic." Wesley explained quietly.

"Really? He looks like he's eating enough." I sighed and rolled my eyes.

"Psychic, Cordelia, he's psychic." I educated her. "He's connected to the mystic. When you sing, you bare your soul. He sees into it. He's an empath demon to dumb it down."

"This isn't about your pipes, bro." The Host continued talking to Angel. "It's about your spirit. I can't read you unless you sing."

"I don't sing." Angel insisted.

"Come on, Angel." Cordelia smiled at him. "I want to hear you sing."

"No."

"It would be for a good cause." Wesley informed him. "We might learn something."

"Who's the boss here?"

"I know you're feelin' smooth, in the groove." The Host said. "Isn't that the thing that comes before a fall?" Angel looked around at all of us.

"There are three things I don't do: tan, date and sing in public." He pushed past The Host and walked back through the metal detector and disappeared up the steps.

"See ya around. How fabulous would I look in that coat?" I cocked my head to the side in thought, trying to imagine this demon in Angel's coat.

"I really don't think it's your style." I muttered.

"Oh!" Cordelia gasped. "Rosabella! You should totally sing—"

"Let's go." I cut her off and began to make my way to the door.

GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

Hours later, Angel sat on Cordelia's couch, moping. He found the Prio and managed to kill it before it could kill a pregnant woman, but it turned out that the Prio was the pregnant woman's protector. Her friend.

"He was good?" Wesley asked Angel for the tenth time, trying to wrap his head around it. All Angel did was nod.

"And you—" Cordelia let out a guttural gasp as she mimicked a killing gesture. Angel glared at her.

"Yeah." Angel murmured.

"Ooh. Well, that's bad. Which, of course, you already—right."

"Look, he was a demon. I just assumed—"

"We know, Angel." I comforted him. "Any one of us would have done the same thing. Except for Cordelia. She probably would have just run away."

"Cordelia said he was a nasty demon." Wesley said.

"Well, he looked nasty." Cordelia retorted, defensively. "I didn't say he was a killer. You did!"

"That's what Prio Motus are. They hunt. They kill." Angel got up from the couch and sulked to stand in front of the white board. "What, we're supposed to think a creature like that can suddenly change its modus operandi overnight?" I pointed my hand at Angel's back, silently reminding Wesley how Angel used to be Angelus, a stone-cold killing machine vampire who hunted and killed everything that moved until gypsies gave him a soul and he turned into Angel. "Turn into some noble protector and. . ." I frantically waved my hand at Angel. "Defender of—" More waving. "Oh, God."

"I didn't feel any fear when I saw him. Angel was probably supposed to help him, not—" Cordelia sighed and threw her head back to look at the ceiling and began talking to the Higher Powers. "Thanks for the obscure visions. We're doing great with that."

"I killed an innocent being." Angel muttered. "He was a soldier like me. Whatever his mission is, it's mine now." Angel snatched his coat off the coach and threw it on before making his way to the apartment door.

"Well, that's a start. You said he was protecting a pregnant woman."

"From something called the Tribunal. I want you three to find out what that is."

"We will." Wesley confirmed.

"Angel!" I called after him before he could walk out the door. He half turned to me. "You didn't know."

"I'm thinking somebody did." Angel growled.

"Need any help getting some answers out of him?"

"No. Stay here. See what the spirits have to say if you can."

"You got it, boss."

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Wesley and Cordelia sat in the kitchen reading through some books while I sat cross legged on the couch, trying to meditate and searching within my mind through all the spirits that were held up in there. There are many spirits that stay in a Spirit Holder's mind. Some come and some go or there are some that may stay with the Spirit Holder for their entire life. Sometimes a spirit may present itself and give the Spirit Holder strength and power depending on the situation but there are times where you had to go searching for answers and the spirits weren't always helpful when you had to go searching. A knock at the apartment door broke me from my meditation.

"Who is it?" Cordelia called out, getting up from her chair.

"Gunn." A male voice responded. That answer brought us all up to are feet.

"What was that?" Wesley whispered to Cordelia.

"Something about a gun." Cordelia said. "What if it's a demon with a gun?"

"Listen up, whoever you are. We're well armed and we know how to do battle, so if you know what's good for you—"

"My name is Gunn." The man revised. "Angel sent me." Cordelia reluctantly walked to the door and opened it to reveal a tall, black male with a bald head and brown eyes. He was wearing an orange Kingston jacket that was zipped up halfway and a brown shirt underneath it.

"Well, this is a little embarrassing." Cordelia admitted. "Please come in." She stepped aside to let Gunn inside. I stood my ground by the couch and crossed my arms over my chest, surveying this stranger's every move to make sure he wasn't a threat. "Come in. Wesley, Rosabella, you've heard Angel talk about Gun. He's a great guy with a really fly street tag."

"What's he fly?" Wesley asked.

"It's how they know you on the street, Dorko. Gun, it really lets 'em know you mean business."

"It's my name." Gunn said flatly. "Charles Gunn. Two Ns."

"Oh, Lord, will no one shut me up?" Wesley stepped to hold out his hand for Charles to shake.

"Uh, I'm Wesley Wyndam—" Gunn turned and walked away from him to go to the white board. "Pryce. . . and this is Cordelia Chase and Rosabella Moore."

"It's nice to finally meet." Gunn walked over next to me and stared down at me. I stared back with hard intent. He stared at me for a moment and turned back to Wesley and Cordelia.

"I've seen you before." He said.

"Really? The Tan 'N' Screen commercials."

"I saw you in bed."

"What?"

"I can see this is none of my business." Wesley mumbled as he tried to make a hasty exit out of the room.

"You, too." Wesley stopped in his tracks and spun back around.

"Now, just a moment."

"And her."

"I don't do threesomes, buddy."

"In the hospital. After Angel's building blew?" That brought back horrid memories that I quickly shook back off, trapping them back behind the fog of spirits. "He sent me there to keep an eye on you three."

"Right." Cordelia murmured.

"I'm just messing with y'all. I was hoping for some demon fighting tonight, but I wound up with a delivery job instead." He pulled a bronze medallion piece from his back pocket and handed it to Weasley who gingerly took it as it was a newborn baby and he was afraid he was going to drop it. "Angel said it might have something to do with the Tribunal."

"Oh!" Wesley awed the bronze piece. "Oh, this could be an emblem or, uh. . . some sort of protective amulet." He headed back into the kitchen to get started on the books while Gunn turned back to the board.

"These all the cases y'all got goin'?"

"Some of them are still a work in progress, but most of them are closed." I said.

"Isn't this the well-oiled machine?"

"We try."

"We set 'em up." Cordelia chuckled. "We knock 'em down. Well, we did until Angel knocked down the wrong—" I gave Cordelia a hard stare and her voice trailed off. "I'm sure he's getting on top of it now."

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

"Did you check Greek Mythology?" I questioned Wesley as I paced back and forth behind his chair in the kitchen with books scattered against the table. Cordelia and Angel were in the living room. Angel had come back, shirt torn to shreds as he fought a pack of demons to protect the pregnant woman. Apparently, he gave her the address to Cordelia's apartment and told her to come her, but she never showed.

"It doesn't appear Greek, Rosa." Wesley sighed impatiently.

"But did you check?"

"Yes." My body seized and I was frozen in place as a spirit came through. _Cahair Binse. _As quickly as it came and spoke in my mind, it was gone.

"Cahair Binse." I repeated the spirit's message.

"The what?"

"Cahair Binse. Um. . . look. . ." I rummaged through the books, trying to find the medieval one. "Look. . ." I snatched it and opened it up in front of him. "Look in this. A spirit just told me Cahair Binse." Wesley quickly flipped through the pages before he paused, read, and then got up to scurry off into the living room. "Uh, you're welcome?" I followed him.

"I think we've got something. It's medieval, a small badge or coat of arms to be presented when going before the _Cahair Binse. _Roughly translated, that's Chair of Judgment."

"The Tribunal." Angel breathed.

"Right. An ancient court to settle grievances."

"You mean, with, like, lawyers and stuff." Cordelia said.

"This is a little more primitive. It's a fight to the death."

"That's why she needed a champion." Angel pieced it together. "Where would this Tribunal take place?"

"There's no way to tell. They're mystical events. They could rise up in our reality whenever they please."

"Look, we gotta find her right away, whatever it takes." Angel was silent for a moment as he stared out into space, lost in thought. "There's only one way."

LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

Wesley, Cordelia and I sat at a table at Caritas and stared at the stage in shock as Angel butchered the song Mandy. He was off-key, he was quiet, he was just. . . horrific. The audience was completely silence whether it was in shock or respect, we may never know.

"That man will do anything to save a life." Cordelia said.

"Do we need to do this?" I mumbled, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms over my chest. "I mean, we're really going to take advice from an empath demon?"

"He's not just a normal empath demon, Rosa." Wesley began to explain. "What he does—" I held up my hand to silence him. I really didn't not want to hear about the demon, not even of my own species, that may be my mate.

"I really don't care what he does. What I do care is saving that pregnant woman before she is murdered and being here is just wasting time." Wesley stared at me for a moment before leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table.

"I think there's another reason why you don't want to be here." I leaned forward to match his pose and stare.

"I think you better be careful of the next words that come out of your mouth."

"The first time that we came here to talk to Merl, I noticed a certain body language coming from you once The Host—" My muscles tensed.

"I'm warning you, Wes." My blood began to boil with rage.

"—started singing. Knowing your species—"

"Last chance, Wesley." My teeth clenched at the inevitable truth.

"—I could only assume that it means that you fo—" I grabbed his beer mug sitting in front of him and went to go swing up against the side of his head, but before it could connect with his skull, a bright blue light force blasted me out of my seat and halfway across the club. I skidded to a stop across the floor on my stomach. There was no pain from the force, but it still felt like getting hit back a Mack truck without the damage to go with it. Groaning, I got to my feet and wiped the dust of my pants and hands. My eyes shot up as I felt all eyes on me. "Well, the demon sanctuary spell does work on her." I focused in on Wesley, ignoring everyone else, and stalked back over to him, leaning down to get into his face.

"The only reason why my kind are considered demons and not goody-two shoes deities is because my kind aren't afraid to kill. Watch yourself, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, you can't stay on protected grounds forever. And this—" I waved to the invisible sanctuary spell around us. "—is why I don't like being here or else this—" I picked up the tipped over beer mug and held it up to Wesley's face. "—would be through your freaking skull right now." I slammed the mug back down on the table, snatched my coat from my chair and stormed out of the club, growling at the bouncer as I passed him.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Angel's brown eyes kept glaring at me as I slouched on Cordelia's couch with her next to me and Wesley across the room, eyeing my wearily.

"I told you I was sorry, Angel." I apologized for the sixth time. "Wesley pissed me off and then SNAP! I grabbed the nearest thing near me and forgot about the spell."

"How did it feel?" Wesley wondered and my eyes narrowed at him.

"How do you think it felt? It wasn't all warm and fuzzy. It felt like I got hit by a Mack truck without the pain." I turned my attention back to Angel. "At least that demon got enough of your horrid singing to tell where to find the pregnant woman and congratulations on saving her." Angel walked over to the white board but stopped abruptly and turned back to me.

"You thought my singing was horrid?" Angel sounded hurt. I looked at anything in the room but him, not wanting to answer him honestly and he faced the board with a sigh and took it down.

"Good idea, start over with a fresh slate." Wesley encouraged sarcastically.

"Actually, we're starting over with no slate."

"Of course. We shouldn't be keeping score. We're not running a race, we're doing a job. . . one soul at a time."

"Wow, Wes, that was just beautiful." I said half-heartedly.

"You guys hold the fort." Angel ordered. "I have somewhere to be." I stood up from the couch.

"I'll walk with you to the street." I offered. "I have something I need to do." He simply nodded and I followed him out the door.

"Where are you going?" Angel asked me as we walked down the hallway to the stairs.

"Oh, I'm off to the most secluded spot I can find and get rid of this itch in my chest." Angel chuckled.

"It's LA. Good luck finding somewhere secluded." I laughed.

"Where are you going?" He didn't answer me as we walked down the steps and out the doors to the cool breeze of the night. "Well, then, I'll see you later, Angel." I turned to walk away but the soulful vampire stopped me.

"Hey, there's an abandoned hotel just over on Palm Street. It's completely empty and no one lives around it. Probably a good spot to. . . you know." I smiled at him.

"Thanks." I stuffed my hands in my pockets and walked down the sidewalk before calling over my shoulder, "Say hi to Faith for me."


End file.
